


Unconventional Methods of Salvation

by Ingu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, BAMF Hux, Canon Rewrite, Drama, Force-Sensitive Hux, M/M, Slow Burn, Smuggler Hux, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7041544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingu/pseuds/Ingu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Later, Hux would have no idea what drove him to make the proposition. </p><p>“You know, we could work together.”</p><p>“You think I’m going to trust some smuggler outlaw?”</p><p>(The one where smuggler Hux saves 'Ben', and lives to regret it. Or, the one where Kylo Ren is just trying to do something right, and Hux just wants to get paid.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconventional Methods of Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born from the 'Smuggler Hux UA' prompt I received after signing up as a pinch-hitter. I've taken massive liberties with SW canon and incorporated some elements of the extended universe for this story. Currently, this is only the first of a five part fic which I was unfortunately unable to finish in its entirety. More parts will be coming (though I can't tell you precisely when). Shoutout to [](http://pidgeonheart.tumblr.com) the wonderful pidgeonheart, my wonderful artist for this piece, and massive thanks to thewightknight for beta-ing this first chapter. All mistakes remain mine.

**One**

Markets were usually bustling, lively affairs, where stall-keepers loudly extolled the virtues of their wares and shrewd shoppers compared and haggled prices until either side was assured of a bargain. Cammarian markets, however, carried an entirely different flavour.  Perhaps it was the cold, or the wet, or the sheer sense of hopelessness that pervaded the lives of anyone stuck on an outer rim planet, but the conversation here was subdued, and the sellers disinterested in anything requiring effort.

Hux, standing on the fringes of the marketplace and bundled in far more layers than he found pleasant, pretended he wasn’t slowly freezing as he waited for the chadra-fan beside him to finish inspecting Hux’s bag of gemstones. He eyed a nearby butcher as the human swung his cleaver down upon slabs of unknown meat sitting atop his counter. Loud thunks broke above the sounds of the crowd as bone was severed, and Hux caught himself grimacing at the suffocating stench that arose. Beside him, Hux’s fence – a small, smelly creature named Kep – hummed thoughtfully as he picked up another purple gem.

“Are we nearly done?” Hux hissed, his breath fogging in the cold, biting air. The gems were the real deal. He’d checked them himself, and they were going to attract attention if things didn’t move along. The sooner he got paid the sooner he could get off this blasted planet.

“Just being thorough, friend,” Kep muttered. “These could be worth a pretty tidy sum to the right buyer.”

“That’s what I’m counting on. How long before you can move them?”

Stolen goods were rarely better than cold hard credits when you considered the trouble of securing a reliable fence. At least Hux now knew better than to run for the Otto Brothers, who clearly lacked the capacity to secure enough credits to pay their smuggler for a job well done.

“Gems of this quality? Shouldn’t be hard, I’d say-”

Later, Hux might have blamed the cold, or his own exhaustion, for failing to see the signs.

“Hold it right there!”

Kep’s words were cut off by a booming voice, and Hux turned to witness the arrival of a Gamorrean police officer, clad head to toe in thick armour, blaster raised as he pushed through the scattering crowd. Hux froze where he stood, alarm shooting through him with the force of a lightning strike.

His gaze flitted to Kep, who stood disturbingly unperturbed by the sudden arrival of local law enforcement. It took only a second for Hux to make the connection.

“You filthy traitor,” Hux said, teeth gritted as the market was quickly flooded with police officers, blasters raised and pointed in his direction. The noise around them rose as market-goers and store-keepers scattered, some yelling in alarm.

“Your bounty is higher than what all this is worth, man. Sorry,” the chadra-fan said, reaching forward to return Hux’s valuables. Hux responded with a look of pure contempt, just as the closing officers began to shout some of Hux’s least favourite sentences in existence.

“Raise your hands!” “You’re under arrest!”

Hux took a deep breath, tampering down on his surging frustration, and slowly did as he was ordered. His wrists rose past his waist, and his fence’s beady eyes widened just as Hux’s fingers found his way beneath his sleeve, and triggered the smoke canister hiding within.

“He’s-” Kep’s yell was cut off by violent coughing as Hux was immediately engulfed in a cloud of smoke. His position obscured, Hux wasted no time in dashing past the stumbling rodent, dropping the canister as he went. With a leap he was on top of a fabric stall, then stepping between loaves of bread, and jumping forward, boots landing in the mud as he made for the streets. Merchants and officers alike shouted in fury as he dashed past, but no shots went off in the crowd.

The officer’s desire to avoid collateral damage was exactly what Hux was counting on. He vaulted over the short wall separating the market from the city, and pushed himself deep into its streets. The yelling from the officers was still too loud and too close for comfort, and Hux sprinted down the nearest path, shoving past confused civilians and alarmed street criminals.

Cammar was more of an overgrown village than a city, built on the coast of a planet that was more swamp than land. The buildings were flat and the land was even flatter, and all Hux had to rely on were the unplanned streets, broken and interconnected in the most confounding ways known to man. He dodged through the open door of a shop and rushed out the back exit, following little more than instinct in his attempt to hold onto his freedom.

An officer was waiting for him at the end of the alleyway, and Hux swallowed a curse as he turned down the first branch in his path and almost ran straight into a bewildered young girl. With a hurried apology, he ran.

Fleeing for his life wasn’t high on Hux’s lists of preferred things to do. But when you did enough of something for a long enough time, you developed numbness toward it. And when you saw enough official looking aliens cutting you off and yelling at you to stop, you eventually skipped the panic reaction entirely, and dived right into exasperation.

The feeling lasted even as Hux found himself cornered in an alleyway, and thrown to the ground by a Gammorean at least three times heavier than he will ever be.

 

-

 

The inconvenience of the inevitable jailbreak aside, prisons weren’t objectively Hux’s least favourite places to be. For someone on the run, it was not uncommon to find yourself in worse smelling places among dangerous company. In a local jail, especially those on backwater planets run by clueless officers, you were at least likely to have a roof over your head and a locked gate for protection against wild elements. The worst thing about it was the humiliation that compounded the sting of whatever failure or incredibly bad luck had landed him there in the first place.

Plotting his revenge while being slung over the shoulders of a foul smelling Gammorean sheriff and carried around like a sack of potatoes was a memorable, if unappealing, way to end a very long day.

The walls ceased their retreat as the officer stopped in the middle of the corridor. With a metal clang, the door to his cell slid open. Hux’s world abruptly turned upside down as he was unceremoniously tossed inside. He landed with a hard thump against the dirt floor, the impact rattling his bones. The door slammed shut, and when Hux looked up he was greeted with the retreating back of the sheriff, who hadn’t left him with so much as an insult before he turned and lumbered away.

Hux bit back a sigh and took a moment to pick himself up off the floor. The going was awkward with his wrists bound, but before long he was back on his feet, dusting off his trousers and coat as best as he could. He twisted his wrists lightly, confirming that his cuffs were still exactly where they were meant to be, pressed against his skin beneath cloth and the metal binders. The officer’s pat down search had left him with two blades and an entire kit of lock-picks hidden in his boot. Such amateurs.

In a shadowed corner of the cell, another human sat curled against the wall. The man was watching Hux suspiciously, eyes narrowed and lips set in a scowl. The stranger had oddly configured features, with a thick mop of dark hair framing a face that was a bit too long and accenting a nose that was perhaps too big. And yet, maybe it was the dark, doe eyes, or the pouting lips, but the odd configuration was a strangely attractive one.  

“What are you in for?” the man said, his gaze sweeping Hux up and down before his frown deepened in judgment. Hux knew he was not a pretty sight, his clothes stained with mud, blood, and other substances he would rather not identify. He probably reeked too, from his emergency detours through the livestock markets and local fisheries. You never seemed to get enough time to route-pick when you were being chased by half a dozen police officers.

“Misplaced trust,” Hux replied curtly. There was a distinct sulking tone in his cellmate’s voice that told Hux it was probably the stranger’s first time enjoying the unpleasant environment of a Cammarian prison cell. If the fine wool of his clothes hadn’t already given him away as someone used to worldly comforts, the man telegraphed his discomfort and inexperience with every unsubtle shift and mumble. Hux wasn’t certain if he was some sort of runaway delinquent or if his screw-up was much more dramatic than a family spat. “Yourself?”

The man immediately looked away, his scowl deepening as his gaze turned skittish, ashamed. “I didn’t have the right papers.”

Then, like an insecure child, he curled in on himself and wrapped his arms tighter around his knees.

 _Unused to hiding his own emotions_ , another trait that pointed toward escaped noble brat.

“Unfortunate,” Hux offered, disinterested, before he settled himself in the opposite corner of the cell facing the door. There was a small window set on the wall between him and his cellmate, and a single beam of the late afternoon sun shone through, lighting up a small patch of the dirt floor.

The human sharing his cell was an odd one, and Hux didn’t know if he was more likely to be a burden or an ally when it came to the escape he had got planned. But at the very least he wasn’t the chatty sort.

“So what are you? A cutpurse?” Hux’s companion mumbled out of the blue, forcing Hux to re-evaluate his judgement.

Hux glanced at the man. “Not quite.”

“Con man?”

“I’m a transport specialist.”

There’s a moment of silence. “You’re a smuggler.” The raw disgust in his voice grated against Hux’s pride.

“Only if I break galactic law.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?”

It was, but Hux wasn’t going to give the stranger the satisfaction. “And why exactly are you here?”

“I told you.” The stranger didn’t miss a beat in answering, eager in his inexplicable self-righteousness. “I didn’t have the right papers.”

“Not here, here on Palaris. This planet isn’t exactly a popular destination for runaways.” Too boggy, too wet, and too poor for even Hux. If it wasn’t for the fact that Kep had chosen it as his seasonal base of operations, Hux could have lived his entire life without getting to know its elements.

The man bristled. “How do you know that?”

“People wealthy enough to afford a coat like yours usually don’t have trouble securing proper papers.”

The man blinked, and his mouth half opened in preparation for an angry retort when it slammed shut again.

Hux’s victory, and the blessed silence that followed, was pleasant. If he didn’t think he might want this man’s cooperation later that night, he would have elected to stay silent.

“What’s your name?”

The man froze, and there was a telling pause before he replied. “I’m… I’m Ben.”

“Brandon,” Hux returned an equally fake name. They’d probably never see each other again after this planet anyway, once this rich kid returned to his scandalised family.

They settled into a stable silence, and Hux quietly plotted his escape, running through his memories of the building’s layout, the doors and corridors the guard had followed on their way into this cell. Time passed, and the beam of light travelled across the floor and up the wall, transforming from orange to the pale blue of twilight, and then into the deep indigo of night.

Late into the evening, when even his cellmate had stopped fidgeting and had seemed to settle to sleep, Hux finally reached for his hidden kit and got to work on his binders. The police force in Cammar were equipped with ancient models, fitted with electronic systems at least a decade out of date. It took barely a second for his skeleton key to override the mechanisms. With a quiet click, his binders came loose.

On the other side of the cell, there was the sound of shifting fabric.

“What are you doing?”

Hux looked up at the sound of Ben’s voice. The man was on his knees, leaning toward Hux with wide eyes, staring at his released hands, and then at Hux. Hux glanced down at the man’s bound wrists.

“Escaping,” Hux said as he stood. He moved to the cell door and peeked outside. There wasn’t a single guard in sight. This late into the night, there should only be one or two officers left on guard. If he was lucky, he could get away without setting off any alarms.

“What? Wait!” With a rustle, Ben climbed to his feet. His shoulders were hunched seemingly on instinct, but they did little to diminish his impressive stature. “Free me! I can help you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait until your family comes to get you?” Hux asked quietly, amused. At best a rich kid like this would’ve been a distraction, at worst, the burden that got him caught. Yet Hux’s question had Ben’s expression shifting into something almost resembling fear, and it made Hux mentally reassess the exact nature of the people ‘Ben’ was fleeing from.

The man shook his head. “No. You have to free me,” he said, holding out his wrists. Then, almost as an afterthought, he mumbled a quiet: “Please.”

In a perfect world, Hux would have said no. Yet there was no need for a vocal threat for them both to understand it would be easy for Ben to attract the attention of the guards and prematurely end Hux’s escape attempt.

Nevertheless, Hux made a show of considering Ben’s offer, if only to hold onto his position of power over the younger man. Keeping his eyes on his cellmate, Hux slowly reached for his lock kit a second time. Ben moved toward him carefully.

"I will free you," Hux said. "But only on one condition. You do exactly as I say until we get out of here." 

"Yes, fine." Ben thrust his arms forward.

Ben's gaze was intense even in the darkness. Hux didn't know if he could trust the man in front of him, but he had little choice. He pulled out his key and performed the override.

 “Alright,” Hux said as the binders came undone. “Follow me.”

 

 

-

 

‘Ben’ turned out to be as good at following orders as a directionless nerf.

The station was quiet in the dead of night, and staying silent and undetected was a challenge Hux had no intentions of failing. Their locked cell door had been little trouble, and Hux was focused on staying vigilant as they snuck through the hallways toward anything that could serve as an exit. The building was poorly maintained enough to be missing half its security cameras, and escaping would have been easy, if not for his companion.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hux hissed.

With a muffled groan, a human officer they could have easily snuck past crumpled into Ben’s arms. Hux's companion had barely reacted in time to catch the body and lower it to the ground before he was taken down by the weight. In his hand was the crowbar he had appropriated from a store room, the almost-murder weapon.

“They have something that’s mine,” was the mumbled reply.

They were at an intersection. The cells were below them in the basement floor, and to Hux’s right, he had already spotted a window that could serve as his way back into the city. Ben, standing beside the sign that pointed toward the evidence lockers, seemed intent on getting himself caught a second time.

“We don’t have the time for this!” Hux said through gritted teeth. As though to support his argument, the downed guard’s radio crackled to life in that moment, drawing both their attention.

“ _Lorren?”_ the low and familiar voice of a second officer sounded. “ _How’s the weather down there?”_

Hux glared at Ben, motioning at the radio.

“ _Lorren?”_

Ben scowled at the radio like it had offended him personally, his jaw tight, but there wasn’t a single sign of hesitance in his eyes when they met Hux’s. Hux could only watch, gaping, as his companion turned and swept down the corridor.

 _Let the idiot get himself caught_ , he thought, almost rolling his eyes as he turned and headed in the opposite direction. The window wasn’t even locked, and escape was a simple matter of opening it and slipping out into the night.

Naturally, he barely made it fifty meters from the building before an alarm began to wail.

 

-

 

The area Hux found himself in was neither particularly poor nor particularly wealthy. Each street only had about two working streetlights at best, and was littered with trash. Yet they were also mostly deserted of vagrants, and the ground level windows were often barred or downright blocked, indicating there was something inside worth protecting. As he hurried through the streets, Hux stuck to the shadows, trying not to dwell on the absurd decision of his missing companion, who had mot likely already been caught and tossed back into his cell. It was an unnecessary distraction when it came to the problem at hand, namely, getting out of this city and finding both his ship and his crew again. Standard protocol in these situations meant that Phasma and Mitaka would wait at their landing place for two planetary days at most before either mounting a rescue or fleeing the planet, depending on how uncomfortable a situation they found themselves in. All Hux had to do was to find his way to them.

That is, if he could figure out where he actually was.

The same unfamiliarity with the city that had gotten Hux cornered in an alleyway was now coming back to bite him. Cammar’s streets were twisted and labyrinthine, far from the ordered rows and columns of Karmina Prime or even the organised chaos of Norem nearby. Without so much as a datapad on him, Hux only had the volume of the distant alarms to measure his position relative to the police station.

On what he was almost sure was his third time down an alleyway, Hux almost had a heart attack when a dark shadow dissolved into the shape of Ben. He jumped, swallowing back curses as he took several steps back and willed his racing heart to return to a regular rhythm. He almost reached for his blaster before he remembered the holster was empty.

Ben, arms folded, watched Hux in amusement as he tried to reign in his reaction. His black clothes had made him almost impossible to spot in the dark, and a quick once-over showed that he carried no injuries.

“I see you didn’t get caught.” Hux said, stating the obvious when the urge to yell diminished enough for him to speak.

“No, those officers were no match for me.”

 _Then how did you get caught?_ Hux almost asked, wondering if he ought to add _potentially dangerous_ to his assessment of Ben No-last-name. Was he _flaunting_? “How’d you get out?”

“I walked,” Ben replied, deadpan. “Is this yours?” He held out a blaster and a rucksack. Hux’s blaster and rucksack.

Hux’s gaze darted to the weapon and back. “Yes,” he said, confused. When Ben’s proffered hand didn’t retreat, Hux reached for the blaster and slid it into his empty holster. “Thank you.”

He took the rucksack and slung it back over his shoulders, feeling oddly self-conscious. So he had underestimated this man, whoever he might be. Just what sort of person is wealthy enough to afford clothes like that, gets caught without papers on an outer rim planet, and yet successfully escapes a prison without getting so much as a scrape? Hux found he couldn’t quite judge if Ben’s confidence was the naïve bravado of a sheltered young man, or something born of trials won.

But to be fair, stupid and dangerous were not mutually exclusive traits in any species.

“Now we’re even,” Ben said, and that definitely was smugness Hux heard in his voice.

“Right.”

Ben turned, prepared to leave. Later, Hux would have no idea what drove him to make the proposition.

“You know, we could work together.”

“You think I’m going to trust some smuggler outlaw?”

With those final words, Ben vanished into the streets. Hux stared after him, more than a little bit insulted by Ben’s rude dismissal.

That was one way to end their acquaintance.

Putting the experience behind him, Hux turned and headed toward the outskirts of the city, and told himself that they’d probably never meet again.

 

-

 

The police search that unfolded that night drove Hux to hide in cramped, tight spaces, impeding his progress out of the city. He’d expected the officers to give up in the second hour of his escape. Yet as time progressed, it only seemed that more officers were joining the hunt.

For fear of attracting attention, Hux didn’t dare to move too quickly as he inched closer toward the outer edge of the city. It was only when it was close to dawn that he made it to a stretch of road he recognised, and took a risk on an unattended speeder bike outside a closing bar. He moved in under cover of darkness and overrode the electronic lock in seconds. Then, he was speeding into the night.

Hux barely made it three blocks before he saw a dark figure dash onto the street far in front of him, fleeing from shouting officers. Recognition hit him, and he watched in alarm as Ben turned, blaster in hand, and shot in the police’s direction. The officers yelled and scrambled for cover in the alley, and not a single shot landed. Ben turned, and then promptly tripped on his own feet and went down like a pile of bricks.

The officers, realising the gunfire had stopped, began to emerge from their hiding places.

Maybe it was that thing called compassion, or maybe, the petty teenager in him simply wanted to one-up the irritating rich-kid who had insulted him earlier. But as he approached, he found himself pulling his blaster from its holster.

Hux was confident he would drive straight past his temporary ally, right up until he raised his weapon and fired toward the approaching law enforcement. The officers yelled again, and scrambled back into cover just as Hux pull to a stop next to a surprised Ben.

“Get on.”

Ben stared at him, and hesitated for only a second before scrambling to his feet. Hux gritted his teeth as the speeder dipped, creaking dangerously under an amount of weight it was never meant to bear. Ben settled in behind him, and the alarming lack of space forced him to press himself entirely against Hux’s back. Arms slid around his waist, holding on tightly.

There was the flash of lights, and the sound of sirens suddenly magnified as a trio of police cruisers turned the corner in the distance. Hux grimaced, muttering a curse, and gunned the engine.

They shot through the streets, police vehicles hot on their tail. Within minutes, the buildings around them began to shrink in size as they reached the outer limits of the city. The road ahead was running out fast and Hux braced as they broke into the wilderness with a lurch. A foul, humid stench assaulted them even as the bike’s repulsors kept them suspended above the marshes. Behind them, the wailing sirens did not dim for a moment as the police vehicles followed them into the wild.

The landscape was littered with trees and boulders, and the pale light of the approaching dawn was too little to see by even with the added red of the flashing sirens. One moment, the road ahead was clear. The next second, a dark shadow of a tree loomed before them and Hux hurried to dodge out of the way before it turned them both into a morbid headline. Behind them, someone was shouting something on a loudspeaker, but Hux did not listen.

He glanced down at the dial, measuring the amount of distance they’d covered. He scanned the environment desperately in the dark, switching on the high beam lights in complete disregard of their need to lose their pursuers. He smacked the horn, wincing as the piercing sound cut across the open air.

“What are you doing?” Ben hissed in his ear, an irritating puff of warm air that made Hux wince.

“Shut up.”

  


As they sped forward, the air in the distance suddenly rippled, and the shape of a starship emerged where there seemed to only be wilderness. The metal loading ramp began to fall, and Hux pushed the engine, racing toward the ship.

The police sirens behind him were drawing even nearer, and Hux slammed on the brakes just as they rushed up the metal ramp, pulling the handles with gritted teeth. They turned in one smooth movement into a stop. Before them, the oncoming police speeders had also arrived.

An orange blaster shot flew past them and burned into the metal wall. Hux dodged down with a curse, and then they were jumping off the speeder and scrambling for cover behind the heavy metal crates lining the ship’s cargo hold. Metal groaned as the ramp began to close, and a roar sounded as the engines fired.

The furious faces of approaching officers were hidden as the ramp closed with a clunk. The floor beneath them pushed up as they were carried into the air, and Hux finally let himself breathe, looking across at the man he had rescued. Ben was staring at him with wide eyes, his hair blown into a wild configuration by the wind. Hux huffed in laughter.

“Good job not getting caught,” he said.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Ben replied with open awe.

Hux shook his head, climbed to his feet, and stepped toward the door.

 

-

 

With a quiet hiss, the interior of the ship was revealed. Inside, Phasma was already waiting, standing in the corridor with a wide grin on her face.

“Hey boss,” she said, before she caught sight of the sullen tagalong following behind him. “Who’s the kid?”

Behind him, Ben bristled immediately. “Did you just call me a kid?”

Phasma’s brows jumped up, and she responded with the same mocking undertone that had started no less than a dozen bar fights. “Is there a problem, child?”

Ben surged past Hux in a swirl of black fabric, and Hux reached forward just in time to grab the man’s collar and drag him to a stop. He couldn’t hide a wince as his arm was almost torn out of its socket for the attempt. Ben was just as strong as Hux had thought, but the man stopped where he was, and turned toward Hux in outrage.

“Show some respect,” Hux said. “If it wasn’t for her help we’d both be back in that jail cell.”

Ben’s expression contorted in anger. But the reprimand did its job, and a pointed glare from Hux was enough for to stop any incoming tirade dead in its tracks. In the exact manner of the spoiled, sulking child Hux suspected Ben was, he turned away and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“You’re welcome,” Hux sighed. Then he met the gaze of a very amused Phasma. “Thanks for waiting around.”

“We couldn’t leave our captain behind,” Phasma replied, this time with a sincere smile and warmth in her eyes. “Good job with the escape. Very dramatic.”

“You’re back!”

A loud, excited voice sounded, and Mitaka emerged from the cockpit behind Phasma, an expression of absolute delight on his face. “We were worried we’d need to mount a rescue.”

“I had it covered,” Hux smiled. “Are we out of range?”

“Yes sir,” Mitaka said.

“Good, let’s put some distance between us and Palaris.” Hux didn’t think that two fugitives were enough for the city to extend its chase off-planet, but it was better to be safe than sorry. “Del, Gwen, this is Ben.” He nodded in Ben’s direction. “Ben, this is Gwen, the ship mechanic, and Del, our pilot.”

Phasma smiled at Ben like she was going to eat him alive, and Mitaka waved in a greeting. Behind him, a mechanical whirr sounded as the Cavendish’s ML series droid emerged from the cockpit. She had been an important companion back in the days when none of them could figure out the difference between a compressor and an amplifier. Over the years, they had performed enough custom modifications on her that she looked more like a miniature tiger with her orange and black stripes and upgraded joints than an the multi-function droid she was supposed to be.

“And Millicent, the ship astromech,” Hux explained at Ben’s look of confusion. Millicent raised her head, pointing her cameras in the direction of the new arrival, and judged him in silence.

Ben appeared the most uncomfortable Hux has ever seen. “What does that make you?” he said out of the blue.

“Me?” Hux said. “I’m the captain.”

 

-

 

Hux’s priorities, from that point on, included a shower, food, and sleep, in that exact order. As for Ben, he left him to Phasma and Mitaka to look after. Now that he had a spare moment to re-evaluate his impulse decisions, Hux wasn’t even sure why he’d decided to rescue a stray that did not trust _smuggler outlaws_. At the time it had somehow seemed like the right thing to do, and he only hoped he wouldn’t live to regret it.

In another life, the Cavendish had been a civilian transport, and that meant the ship came with better amenities than was standard. The hot water system was unquestionably Hux’s favourite of all the unnecessary frills equipped on his ship.

After a scorching hot shower and a fresh change of clothes, Hux walked into the ship kitchen to find Ben sitting at the counter, poking disinterestedly at a plate of grey mush and unidentifiable greens. At his approach, Ben glanced up at him, then did a double take, all of it in silence.

Hux hid his confusion as he dropped into a seat across from his passenger. “I can give you two choices.”

That held Ben’s attention. The other man’s gaze seemed just a little too dark and intense, and Hux did not show his rising apprehension.

“Coldir, or Yeves,” Hux continued. “The former is a transit hub. You can get to anywhere in the galaxy, and probably make contact with your family or whoever you want to take you home. The latter is... Well, I suppose you could call it a den of thieves. You’ll only have to worry about papers in one of those places.”

“I need to get to Jakku.”

“Then I’ll leave you on Coldir.”

Ben straightened with a frown. “But I don’t have any papers.”

“It’s one or the other,” Hux said with rapidly diminishing patience. “Pick.”

Ben opened his mouth, then closed it again. “No, I have to get to Jakku, and you’re going to help me.”

“Where you _want_ to go is none of my concern. Just be grateful we’re willing to risk a Mid Rim hub to drop you off.”

“I can pay you.”

By now, both Phasma and Mitaka had emerged in the kitchen, drawn by their raised voices.

“With what?” Hux said, disbelieving.

He watched as Ben reached into his clothes and pulled out a small, familiar bag. Mitaka’s eyes widened, and he turned toward Phasma to be met with a look of equal surprise. In front of everyone present, Ben tipped the contents of the bag onto his hand.

Small, purple gems. Amethysts.

“Those gems are mine,” Hux said quietly.

“No they’re not,” Ben replied in a tone that could only be described as petulant. “I found them.”

“In the police evidence locker.” The only place they could have been. “Next to my things.”

“What does that matter? You were ready to leave them behind. Clearly, you didn’t want them anymore.”

Phasma’s gaze turned toward Hux in bewilderment. Hux’s jaw tightened, caught by his own miscalculation.

“But you can have them back, if you take me first to Jakku.”

Hux knew of Jakku. With his particular upbringing, it was impossible not to. The Cavendish’s damaged motivators meant that it would take them at least five days to get there. He had been hoping that fencing the gems would get him the money needed for the repairs, but all that had gone out the window the moment Kep decided Hux’s bounty was more valuable than their professional relationship.

“Why Jakku?”

“Because I like the sun.”

 _I could launch you into one,_ Hux thought. “What are you, twelve?”

“Look, I need to get to that planet. You can get me there, and I can pay. What is the problem here?”

“The problem is that I don’t take jobs when I don’t know the risks.” Hux said. “What’s on Jakku?”

Ben glared, but eventually, his logic won out against his petulance. “Family,” he said, skittish enough that Hux instantly understood it was a lie.

Hux sighed, standing up. “We’ll leave you on Coldir.” If Ben couldn’t at least be honest about his intentions, then there was nothing Hux could do to help him.

“What? No!” Ben jumped up, his hands slamming down on the table. “Don’t you want your gems?”

“You know what? You’re right,” Hux said with a smirk. “I don’t need them anymore, and I also don’t need you on my ship for a second longer than I have to.”

Ben reached into his coat a second time and pulled out a new bag he promptly emptied onto the table in front of him. Three vivid green crystals tumbled from within, looking suspiciously like refined nova crystals.

“Where did you get those?” Mitaka mumbled, awestruck.

Hux stared at the crystals, all but glittering under the artificial light, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted by what was sitting before him. With this, Hux would not only have a chance to get his ship fixed, he’d also be able to give her some of the upgrades he’d been eyeing for a long time. They could take a break and lay low for a few months, years even, if they spent the money wisely.

Money like that never came without a price.

“No,” Hux said. “You can get off at Coldir.”

“You’re joking. If you’re not going to help me, then why did you take me from Cammar?”

“Trust me, I am regretting it.”

“Kriff,” Ben muttered, throwing up his arms. “Fine. I’ll figure out my own way.”

“Good,” Hux said, sounding far more huffy than he wanted to. Just like that, he walked out, leaving behind Phasma and Mitaka, who stared at the both of them like they were insane.

It wasn’t until five minutes later that his growling stomach reminded Hux he had completely forgotten to feed himself.

 

-

 

Their destination was a mere hour away at hyperspeed, and Hux took the time to shave, nap away the worst of his exhaustion, and steal a half-empty box of crackers from his own pantry. As for Ben, they left the man in the kitchen, and he sat slumped in silence, undoubtedly sulking.

Phasma found him in his own quarters ten minutes away from arrival, staring at a holo display of the desert planet Jakku. Millicent sat at his feet, beeping soft nonsense.

“You seem to dislike our new passenger,” she said, leaning in the doorway.

“He’s an overgrown child,” Hux said, scrolling through the supplementary text on his datapad. “And he’s still hiding something.” There was nothing on the Holonet about Jakku that Hux didn’t remember from his childhood lessons. It was a desolate desert-planet and the site of the Empire’s desperate final stand, now a ship’s graveyard and home to scavengers and struggling colonists. Why would Ben be so desperate to get there?

“Do you think he might be…?”

“No, if he was with them we’d already be dead or in binders.”

“But he’s running from something.”

“Aren’t we all?” Hux said with a sigh, placing his datapad on his desk. “It just depends on how likely what’s chasing him will catch up and kill us, or worse.”

“I say we give him a chance. He did help you get out from that jail, after all.”

“You mean I helped _him_ ,” Hux said with a pointed look.

“He got you your blaster and the gems back.”

“Which made us _even_ ,” Hux said. “Speaking of debts, he’s the one who owes me for plucking him out of that gunfight.”

“Then let him work it off,” Phasma said. “Besides, we could use those nova crystals.”

Hux glanced back at Phasma, who regarded him with a smirk. It was his fault that their gems were now in Ben’s hands, but he wasn’t sure that whatever was chasing Ben would be worth the trouble of getting them back.

“By the way,” Phasma said suddenly. Hux looked up to find her watching him with a soft look in her eyes. “It’s good to see you back safe.”

“Thanks, Phasma.”

“Thank Mitaka, he’s the one who told me to say it.”

Hux laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Though I… sort of feel the same way.” Phasma grinned, and left before Hux could reply.

Hux let out a breath, his mouth stuck in a smile. _At least he’s home._

 

-

 

Juno V was one of the lesser known moons of Punora Mir in the Outer Rim. It had been mined out of resources at least two centuries ago and turned into a den of villainy after the main planet’s failed attempt at transforming it into a prison. The rock was the local system’s go-to pit stop for scum and criminals of all calibres. Its markets dealt openly in flesh, arms, and narcotics, and there, resupplying would be a minor issue versus not being conned out of their credits by devious traders.

The small mercy of the moon was that it was dominated by three rival gangs that kept order on their turfs with an iron fist. It meant that, as long as you paid the requisite fees, avoided disputed territory, and didn’t look anyone in the eye, you could walk the streets without being robbed of your valuables or your organs. Both, if you were particularly lucky.

“We’re only stopping to resupply,” Hux explained to an inquisitive Ben as they touched down in the spaceports. “Stay on the ship, we’ll take you to Coldir.”

“I don’t see why I have to. I could just get off here. I’d have to pay the same smugglers anyway.”

“You could.” Hux said, making no comment as to the fact that Juno V carried a much nastier breed of regulars compared to a commercial port like Coldir. “Either way, we take off in an hour.”

He left Ben there, standing by the exit, as he made his way down the ramp and into the moon beyond. Only Juno V’s most successful denizens were privileged with access to the old mining facilities with views of the planet beyond. Without a breathable atmosphere, the great majority of the moon’s inhabitants lived within its subaltern tunnels, which were interconnected in ways few fully understood. There was no shortage of hopeless souls that had slipped and fallen through one of the open holes toward certain death on the levels below. The major laneways were cavernous things, while others paths were small tunnels only rodents could fit through.

Hux, navigating mostly through faded memory and unreliable street signs, found himself standing facing a giant cavern. On his right was an entire screen full of wanted posters, plastered more as badges of honour than notices of warning. Of course, they also helped out the odd bounty hunter who passed through. He cast an eye over the newest additions and didn’t see any faces with doe eyes and wild black hair.

Hux had only been to this moon once before, when it was a mid-way destination for an arms shipment meant for the Nealo gang. But once was enough for him to know where he could safely get himself a drink. Turning off into a dark tunnel, he approached a sign saying ‘The Jolly Miner’ and pushed through the door beneath.

The tavern was filled with the usual suspects, thieves, gangsters, and smugglers all armed to the teeth. The crowd barely glanced at Hux when he walked in, and Hux settled himself at a small table after placing an order with the barkeep. After the night he’s had, alcohol seemed not just desirable, but necessary to help maintain his sanity. The bar might not have come with the most pleasant of environments, but it meant distance from their passenger, and right now, Hux was willing to take what he could get.

He took a sip of his brandy, and swirled it in the tumbler, studying the way the light caught in the dark liquid and transformed it amber. Taking a bottle to the ship was a tempting thought.

The door opened, and Hux glanced up to see Phasma, her icy blonde hair swept back, walk into the bar. Their eyes met, and Hux inclined his head in a greeting. She nodded once before pushing her way to the bar, loudly ordering herself a drink.

Hux got all but ten minutes of relative peace before he noticed the steady, calculating gaze of a Lasat mercenary sitting across the room. He waited, steadily ignoring both the unwanted attention and colourful crowd around him as he worked at his drink. Who was the last person he’d pissed off? Hux was starting to lose count of their enemies.

Barely a minute passed before the Lasat rose from his seat, and with him, a Rodian and two humans, all dressed in mercenary garb. They approached his table, crowding around him in an attempt to trap him where he sat.

“Haven’t seen you around here, human,” the Lasat spoke first, in a tone that clearly indicated he didn’t care for whatever response Hux had planned.

“Gentlemen,” Hux said. “I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“You know, I gotta ask. Has anyone ever told you that you match the description of a First Order fugitive perfectly?”

“Which one?” Hux sighed, lifting his gaze to meet the Lasat’s eyes. “Stormtrooper? Officer? A defecting Knight of Ren?”

Rumours of First Order runaways weren’t particularly rare within the galactic underworld. Despite differences in appearance and combat skill, the one commonality they all shared was the promise of an impressive paycheck if captured and returned to their master. That was, if the rumours were even true to begin with. Knowing the Lasats’ history with the Empire that destroyed their homeworld, this mercenary in front of him probably wanted any First Order scum dead rather than traded in for credits.

“The runaway knight,” the Lasat stated.

“And what gives you that idea?”

“How about those force-limiters you have around your wrist?”

Hux’s heart lurched, his gaze darting down to his wrists despite himself. Metal peeked out from beneath the strip of black fabric he had tied around his left wrist, and Hux internally cursed himself for not double checking they had been done up properly before he left the ship. Yet it made no sense that the Lasat would even knew that force-limiters existed, much less what appearance they may take. It had to be a bluff, no more than an excuse to start a fight.

“I don’t know what the hell a ‘force-limiter’ is supposed to be, but you do understand the existence of jewellery?” Hux replied without missing a beat. “It’s actually not uncommon among humans. I’m sure your friends can attest to that.”

The Lasat, sadly, didn’t bite. “You should come with us.”

The sound of smashing glass echoed through the tavern. The Lasat stilled, and then crumpled to the floor, revealing Phasma, standing behind him with a broken bottle in her hand and a decidedly unimpressed look on her face.  

The Lasat’s companions reacted instantly, recoiling from her as they went for their weapons. Hux took the moment of distraction and swung at the human closest to him, knocking her back with a punch before he kicked the Rodian in the gut, sending him falling backwards, his blaster flying. Between him and Phasma, they made short work of the three remaining mercenaries.

The bar was silent for all of two seconds, every pair of eyes on them, before the patrons returned to their games and conversations as though nothing had happened.

“Let’s get out of here.” Hux sighed, his mood thoroughly soured for the second time in less than two hours. Phasma looked like she hadn’t quite had enough, but nonetheless, she nodded, and followed him out the door. The mercenaries, they left unconscious on the floor for the bar patrons to rob.

 

-

 

“You think they knew what they were doing?” Phasma asked once they were on the streets.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either way, we need to get off this moon.”

“And I was just starting to get comfortable.”

Hux hid a smile. “Come on.”

They avoided attention the best they could as they made their way back to the spaceport, mingling in crowds to maintain what anonymity they retained. They were only two minutes away from the Cavendish when Phasma suddenly stopped in the middle of the street, staring into an alleyway like she’d discovered an abandoned puppy. Hux followed her gaze to find none other than ‘Ben’ talking with a trio of human lowlifes. The exchange did not seem to be going well, and the thugs were stepping closer as Ben’s expression contorted in anger.

Phasma turned to Hux with a pointed look. It seemed as though letting Ben loose on the moon meant that not only was his survival in question. The gems on him would probably be lost in matter of minutes.

“He said he’d figure it out himself,” Hux said, already feeling like he was going to lose this battle.

“Is it really a better idea to just let him walk away with _our_ money?” Phasma said. “We’re not going to find an easier or a better paying job than shepherding some runaway rich kid to where he wants to go. He probably has no idea how much those crystals are actually worth.”

“And how much trouble do you think we’ll get in if whoever he’s running from comes looking?” In the alley, the first punch was thrown, and Ben, rather impressively, dodged it. From then on, it was a free-for-all.

“Your name is already tied to his from Cammar,” Phasma continued, unaffected. “If someone wants to find him, they’ll find us first whether we take this job or not.”

Phasma had a point. Hux didn’t like it, but she had a point. Letting Ben leave would not only mean wasting a perfectly good opportunity to make a tidy profit, but whatever was coming for him was probably already on its way, whether Hux tossed Ben out an airlock or simply left him on this moon.

Besides, it wasn’t as though they could simply stop running.

Hux glared, first at Ben, who was trying to climb onto his feet after falling to a spectacular tackle, and then at Phasma, for her convincing arguments.

“I still think we should just leave him on Coldir.”

“But we both agree it’s better that these thugs _don’t_ end up with the crystals, right?”

“Yeah,” Hux nodded, frowning as Ben yelled, throwing an impressive punch that was promptly dodged by the thug he aimed it at. “You’re right.”

Then they launched themselves into the fray.

 

-

 

Hux’s second fight of the day ended as smoothly and successfully as the first. With the criminals’ attention focused on beating Ben to within an inch of his life, they were easily sent fleeing into the tunnels by the arrival of Hux, and perhaps more affectingly, of Phasma, and their cumulative experience in handling street-fights.

With the thugs gone, Ben slowly extended from his curled position on the floor. Hux reached out a hand to help him up, and the moment Ben recognised the two of them, his face turned a curious shade of pink, his grip tightening on some sort of tube wrapped in brown fabric he was guarding with his life. Hux had never seen it until now, and wondered if it had been what he’d risked his freedom to retrieve back on Cammar.

“You okay, kid?” Phasma said. “Looked like you were in a rough spot.”

“I’m fine,” Ben muttered, tightening his coat around him as he slotted the package into an open inside pocket. “They caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Hux let him hold on to what pride he had left. “We should go, before they come back with friends.”

At the offer, Ben stared at Hux in surprise, and he hesitated, looking equally torn between walking away and following Hux back to the ship. Hux watched him expectantly, confusion rising as Ben’s expression shifted into alarm. He lunged toward Hux, shoving him to the floor just as a blaster shot pierced the air he had occupied.

Phasma cursed and ducked for cover as she pulled out her blaster and returned fire. Hux, pinned under Ben’s weight, pushed him aside and pulled out his own weapon, aiming it toward the direction the shots were coming from.

At the entrance of the alley stood the exact same Lasat Phasma had knocked out in the tavern less than half an hour ago. At his side was one of the humans. His other two companions were nowhere to be seen.

“Oh no,” Hux said. He scrambled to his feet at the first lull in the gunfire, and dashed behind a jut in the wall. In an instant, he was joined by Ben, and they squeezed together behind the stone. “The other two are behind us!” he yelled to Phasma. He hadn’t spent half his childhood studying military tactics to not understand basic flanking manoeuvres. They must have seriously pissed this Lasat off.

“I know!” was the shouted reply, and Hux pointed his blaster down the alley just in time for the Rodian to appear at the end. A squeeze of the trigger, and the alien was down. An echoed cry from the opposite end signalled that Phasma had also landed a shot.

“Give it up!” the Lasat shouted. “I know who you are!”

Hux responded to his provocation with a series of shots. He cried out when pain suddenly erupted in his arm, and he fell back behind the rock, nearly dropping his blaster as he went.

“You’re hit!” Ben said, dumbly stating the obvious.

“You don’t say-” Before Hux could finish, Ben had taken his blaster from his hand, and tried to fire it down the alleyway. The weapon beeped once and did nothing.

“There’s a biometric code,” Hux almost shouted, swiping the weapon from a wide-eyed Ben and firing toward the human figure that had appeared at the end of the alley.  The woman went down.

The Lasat, by now, was furious. “Come out, you First Order scum!”

Placing the alien with the sound of his voice, Hux did just that, raising his weapon and firing it at the Lasat just as Phasma stepped out and did the same. Their shots struck the Lasat in the chest, and without so much as a whimper, he went down.

Hux let out a breath, and lowered his weapon. The movement tugged at his injury, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Ben emerged from cover, cautious, and looked at the four bodies lying at either end.

“We’re leaving.” Hux said. “Now.”

Phasma and Ben nodded, somber, and followed.

 

-

 

They made it back to the Cavendish in less than a minute, and with at least another twenty minutes on the clock before they were due to depart. Mitaka was sitting outside on a stack of crates, watching the hose and the pump as it slowly filled the ship’s fuel cells.

“Hey!” He said as the three of them approached. “You’re back early.”

“How much fuel do we have?” Hux said. He walked past without breaking stride and hid his injury the best he could. Ben trailed behind him, following just a little too close.

“Currently at 77%, sir,” Mitaka replied, noticing nothing.

“Good enough, cut it, we’re getting off this moon.”

Mitaka looked toward Phasma in confusion. She made a face in response.

 

-

 

Mercifully, they managed to take off and re-enter hyperdrive without trouble. And strangely enough, Hux found himself sitting in the kitchen again, Ben in the seat beside him. This time, there was a medkit sitting on the desk, and he watched as Ben clumsily tried to patch him up. The man seemed to feel guilty about what happened, even though it had been Hux the mercenaries were after.

It took two minutes of Ben fiddling with the supplies before it became painfully apparent he had no idea what he was doing. Hux took the unnecessary stim-shot from his hand and took over his own first aid.

The moment that Ben threw himself over Hux played over and over in his mind. Ben had saved his life.

Hux looked from his injury to Ben’s sullen stare.

“I’m sorry,” Ben mumbled, his arms folded in front of him. “I know I was useless out there.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Hux said, disinfecting and treating his wound with practiced speed. His injury probably wouldn’t even scar. “Still confident about finding your own way?”

Ben’s sulking eyes immediately turned toward Hux. “You’re the one who refused to give me passage.”

“Because I knew you weren’t telling the truth,” Hux replied. “Like I said, I prefer to understand the risks before accepting a job from a stranger.”

This time, he read uncertainty in Ben’s eyes instead of the familiar stubbornness. The man looked away, his lips pressed together in what Hux almost wanted to call a pout.

“Look… Okay,” Ben said. “My family is not on Jakku, but I wasn’t lying, not entirely. There’s a clue there, in a village. A clue which might lead me to my uncle, who I have to find.”

Hux paused. An uncle. This time, the urgency in Ben’s voice seemed to indicate he was telling the truth. Yet Ben’s truth was far too innocuous to be something he was so desperate to hide.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he said.

“Nothing!” Another lie.

“Who are you running from?” he tried again, not liking the corner he felt backed into. Ben might be hiding anything, or all of it could be just as innocuous as not trusting a man he knew was a criminal. “Tell me that at the very least.”

“I…” Ben’s hesitance lasted longer this time, and Hux could only hope his uncertainty came from the desire to tell the truth.

“It’s the First Order.” Ben said finally, his voice quiet. “I’m running from the First Order.”

Hux froze, staring, searching Ben’s face for any sign of deception. Yet Ben’s eyes were clear, even if his expression was anxious. Surviving on the streets and negotiating with petty criminals wasn’t a skill the First Order taught its officers or its troopers, and Ben’s revelation explained too much about himself for Hux to ignore. In that moment, Hux was taken back to his life fifteen years ago, when he had been nothing more than a runaway, fleeing for his life against a regime he had grew up swearing to uphold. His wrists burned where his metal cuffs wrapped tight around his skin, cutting off any connection he still had to the Force.

“Fine, we’ll take your contract.” The words were out of Hux’s mouth before he could stop them, and forgotten were all the reasons he should say no.

The delight on Ben’s face, though Hux hated to admit it, made him feel just a little bit better.

 


End file.
